


A Moment's Peace

by MatriarchofFire



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9158056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatriarchofFire/pseuds/MatriarchofFire
Summary: He loved her-- this fragile little thing that wandered into his plans at precisely the wrong time. He loved her as he loved nothing before the fall of ancient Arlathan. The old choruses could not compare to the sound of her voice. There existed no woman more beautiful than her, sunkissed and marked as she was.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I entered Solavellan hell again this New Year's day, and this was the result. Please enjoy a short fluff.

Ethala Lavellan smiled often and laughed freely. He found it endearing at fireside. She listened to Varric’s long stories and laughed each time he paused, as if she knew it was laughter he sought. For a Dalish woman, he found her skilled with people, even with men like him.

Where she would laugh for Varric, she would be quiet for him. She listened until he finished speaking, and then she asked her questions, ever thirsty for the answers he had. In the earliest nights, he welcomed her curious mind and her bright smiles. She had no intention of letting him sulk in the corner of Haven, away from all the others, and go about the day on his own.

When Haven fell and they crossed through the mountains together, she valued his counsel more deeply than he could have anticipated. It was him, after all, who lead them all to Skyhold. He gave her and her cause this gift. It should not have mattered that it was all to fix his own mistakes. She could not fathom his reasons for it, but when he watched her light up at the sight of the old stronghold, he was glad she did not know.

Then came the kiss and the tentative days that followed. She watched him as a hunter watched its prey. She had sharp eyes that caught any movement that differed from days past. Ethala retracted from him when he looked away too long or deferred to Varric as they crossed through the Hinterlands again. She noticed when he watched her, and she stared back at him through the fire when he did so.

Up until the night on the balcony, neither of them had the courage to test the other. Solas could not call his actions that night courageous. Cowardice best described the way he bent to her. He just wanted to taste her lips again, hold her a little longer. How could a woman like her exist in a lifeless place like this? He could not count the number of times he asked himself that question.

He asked it again as he lay beside her in her own bed. Skyhold slumbered below them, but Ethala enjoyed staying awake beside him in candlelight. There, in the warmth of her heavy blankets, they read together until he noticed her head go slack against his shoulder. He closed the tome and allowed it to rest against his thighs.

Moments like these tortured him most. Solas looked down at her, saw past her black hair that she had closed her eyes to rest against him. His hands left the book in his lap to cradle her head in against his shoulder. He knew he should not savor this. He should have waited til she fell asleep to sneak away-- but she had him in her trap now. His touch caused her to stir, and she slung an arm across his chest.

“Ma vhenan?” He whispered to her.

A soft hum came up from her throat. Her thin body squirmed against his, trying to get comfortable. She would have pulled him down into the pillows if he did not go on his own. Solas laid flat with her. He heard the book they had been reading tumble to the ground. They would have to watch for it in the dark of the night, if either of them had to get up. He forgot it quickly when she spoke.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“I think so, yes,” he answered.

“Woops,” and then came her free laughter,” You’ll have to read it to me again.”

His hand slipped away from the back of her head, and he pressed his palm to her cheek. Ethala looked up at him with big grey eyes. She smiled at him, and he dragged his thumb across her cheek. He had to remember that look. He would spend every night until there were no more left looking down at her if it meant engraving that smile in his mind.

Her smile withered, and he knew she saw through him for a moment. Another of her great gifts-- she could always hear it in his voice when he drifted, catch it in his eyes when he stared too long. She lifted herself from where she rested against him, and she nudged his forehead with her own. He could feel her warm breath on his face as she whispered.

“Its okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

But he would be. One day. Perhaps not soon, but one day. Solas knew their quiet nights were numbered. They had been numbered from the beginning, and he had been too weak to resist their promise. All for the taste of her lips again. For the chance to forget-- just for a little while-- what he had done.

He could not forget. He found the proof of his own follies in the valley of her chest. Solas saw it all reflect back at him in her eyes, and each night they passed like this, it took everything not to reveal himself to her. When it all threatened to tumble from his lips, he sealed them shut with her own. She never complained, but in some way, she was onto him.

Ethala kissed him this time. She knew he was far too lost inside his own head, and she never asked for him to come out of it. Her warm arms wrapped around his neck. Her body shifted from where it lay at his side to where she laid upon him. He let a hand drift to the small of her back. She closed her eyes, and he followed her. In the dark, broken only by the dim red of the candlelight, he could forget for a little while.

He loved her-- this fragile little thing that wandered into his plans at precisely the wrong time. He loved her as he loved nothing before the fall of ancient Arlathan. The old choruses could not compare to the sound of her voice. There existed no woman more beautiful than her, sunkissed and marked as she was.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he muttered against her lips.

“Ar lath ma, Solas.”


End file.
